Break It
by HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: Sometimes, lovemaking can be a little destructive - it's a good thing Sam and Cas are very good at rebuilding. Or, the one where Sam's wrists are VERY sensitive and Cas casually wears t-shirts with Frank Sinatra's face on it.


_"I want you to fuck me when you get home."_

So the text had gone anyway. Sam had been on his way out to the waiting room to see his next patient, focused on nothing but pulling the splinters out of Queenie's toes. (For a Great Dane, she's quite a pushover.) Receiving dirty texts at work isn't surprising to Sam. Hot, but not surprising. No, what had been the kicker was the picture Cas had sent him two seconds after – his husband's ass backlit in the little sunroom at the back of their house, Cas's left hand pulling his cheeks apart so that Sam could see his stretched – and clean shaven – hole, the little black exclamation point of his wedding ring being the whipped cream on the parfait. Sam had had to stop and button up his lab coat in the hopes that his boner would be a little less obvious.

Castiel is a treasure, truly – but sometimes the riches reach a little too far, and Sam _definitely_ doesn't need to be thinking about how hard Cas probably was while he was prepping himself – thank God he's only got half an hour before he closes up shop.

Queenie can tell Sam's mind isn't totally in focus, and even Mrs. Evans notices. Sam just smiles and nods and tries to reassure Queenie that he's as competent now as the last time she ran through the woods and got splinters.

All he gets in return is one of those noble "harumphs" that only large dogs can manage with near perfect dignity. Mrs. Evans titters behind her hand at the sight of her vet arguing with her unimpressed Great Dane. Maybe if she was married to Cas there would be some understanding of Sam's predicament – the man has absolutely no chill, at all.

Sam's just glad that he can keep up with him – most of the time.

Sam keeps his kind, world's best veterinarian smile on his face until everyone has gone and while he normally doesn't do this, slips out to escape the notice of his techs while they clean the overnight cages. Any other time he'd go and help but all he can think about is the warm, silky glide of Cas's tongue against his while he fucks him on – or over – whatever surface they end up using. Hell, he might even just do it standing in the foyer if it comes down to that. Sam knows for a fact that he can lift Cas clear off the ground and still pound him hard enough that they both see stars.

It's a gorgeous day and Sam had ridden his Harley that morning, proud of the noise it makes as he starts it up and rockets out of the parking lot. He pats himself even more on the back for the decision as it vibrates and rumbles underneath him – between that and the picture Cas had send, Sam is hard as a rock by the time he hits the first stoplight. He's also thankful for the dark blue scrubs he's wearing, because when he looks down to check his gas he notices he's leaked right through his pants. Fucking _hell_ Cas knows exactly what buttons to push to get him going.

The light is long, and Sam's phone buzzes in his pocket again. Fully expecting another scandalous picture of his husband, Sam's relieved to find that it merely says _the door is open._ Good – which means he can start taking his clothes off before he's even in the door. The sooner he's balls deep inside Castiel, the better.

Tempting as the thought of Cas's ass is, Sam tries not to speed. Getting pulled over and further delaying what Cas has planned just wouldn't be fair to _either_ of them. It would be better if they'd gotten to suck each other off before Sam left that morning but he'd overslept a little too long and had to forgo it, even though he'd left Cas laying on his stomach with the blankets down around his thighs; that perfect little peek of the top of his husband's ass out of the top of his briefs had stayed with Sam all morning, too. Almost like a promise of things to come later.

Relief washes over Sam as soon as he sees their red mailbox and guns the engine a little louder – just in case Cas didn't know he was on his way. He's almost sad when he pulls has to shut off the engine and those wonderful vibrations stop – almost. What's to come is more than worth unsaddling for.

His scrub top is hanging in his right hand as he pushes the door open with his left foot, calling for his husband. The cool blast of the air conditioning makes his nipples harden instantaneously, and he gently tweaks the left one as he walks into the living room.

Cas is standing in the middle of the room, already in motion towards Sam.

"Hello, Sam." Cas's smile stretches ear to ear, his eyes as bright as blue sunshine. Sam grins in return and yeah he kind of wants to slam fuck Cas until they're both gasping but holy _shit_ he wants to kiss him.

So he does.

Cas has been kissing him like a porn star since long before they were married, and even though they've both got a little gray hair amongst the brown and black he still does – open mouth, tongue check-marking a swipe across Sam's before their lips even touch, and then trying his damndest to glue them together with those kisses.

Sam lets him, too.

Cas hums as he reaches for the drawstring of Sam's pants and pulls it, his hands greedy to get inside Sam's Saxx. Sam spreads his legs and gasps when Cas's cool fingers wrap around his cock, stroking him inside his underwear.

"You had them in ice again, didn't you?" Sam smiles into another kiss and starts for Cas's left earlobe.

"Not intentionally – I hit my thumb with a hammer earlier." That same thumb rubs over the slit of Sam's cock, causing Sam to gasp again.

"Feels like it's working _fuck."_ Cas is rubbing fast circles over Sam's frenulum, a little trick that he's used to make Sam's knees tremble for years.

Cas kisses him again, using his free hand to expedite the journey of Sam's pants and underwear to the floor. Sam re-routes back to Castiel's mouth and kisses him as smooth as you like while he steps out of the puddle of his clothes. As soon as he's naked, Cas leads him by his cock over the loveseat and bends over, his hole already stretched and wet with lube.

Sam looks down at Cas, rubbing the naked expanse of his back as with his left hand as he takes the lube from Cas with his right. "Figured you'd take your glasses off for this, babe – shit, where's Rio?" They've been interrupted more than a few times by the sudden appearance of their German Shepherd.

Cas laughs and pushes his slim, chic frames up his nose where they'd fallen down. "It's far easier to clean come off of these than it is out of my contacts – and he's in the laundry room."

Sam breathes a quick sigh of relief. "True – and good." Sam leans down and wraps his arm around Cas, bringing him up for a kiss. His back arches prettily as Sam slides into Castiel's warm, tight hole, not a thing between the two of them. Just the squeeze of Cas's body around is near enough to make him blow but he struggles against it. Cas takes Sam's right hand and places it in his thick, always-bedheaded hair. It's soft as silk, always has been, and Sam tugs just enough to get a good hold on his husband.

Cas's grin is positively wicked against his mouth.

"You'll have to pull harder than that today, Sam."

 _Oh._

Looks like Sam's going to get to do some slam-fucking after all. That's Cas for you, though – as sweet and quiet and poised as anyone, up until when he wants Sam to pound him as hard as he can – which he makes absolutely no bones about.

Sam returns Cas's smile and grabs a hold of Cas's naked hip with the other hand.

"As you wish, angel."

Sam cups the back of his hand and pushes Cas's head down a little less than gently, Cas's cheek pressed against the worn, brown fabric of the loveseat. The smile hasn't disappeared from his face in the least, and only gets bigger as Sam starts to fuck him. Sam would take off the glasses for him but he's not one to take away from something that makes those gorgeous blue eyes stand out so well.

Cas moans as Sam's hips start to smack against him loudly enough that it echoes out in the hallway, spurring them both on.

"Harder, Sam." Cas tries to hook his feet around the backs of Sam's legs but the angle isn't quite right.

Sam bends forward to drop a kiss to the nape of Cas's pretty neck. "You want it good and deep today, don't you?" Sam holds his body draped over Cas's as he pistons his hips, his balls swinging with each movement and slapping against Cas's thigh. It'll hurt like hell later but right now Sam's got higher concerns.

"Fuck, Sam, _please."_ Cas always asks so prettily – who is Sam to deny that?"

Sam pulls out and flips Cas over onto his back.

"Want to see your face while I fuck you, baby." Sam teases at Cas's stretched hole with the tip of his cock as he takes a second to breathe. Cas's cock hasn't even been touched yet and he's fully hard, his foreskin drawn down tightly, precome weeping down his length. Sam takes some and smears it on Cas's hole, making Cas watch.

"I've been wet all day, Sam. Ever since I woke up this morning." Cas leans up and kisses Sam, loudly and wetly. "I missed your cock in my mouth, the heat of the blankets over my head as I awakened you." Cas guides Sam's cock to his hole, making him push in, his mouth never stopping the whole time.

"I wanted the taste of you on my tongue while I worked this morning, thinking about how there would be more when you got home." Cas's hands go around Sam's body and pull them close together, Sam bent nearly double to accommodate for the low angle of the loveseat's cushions.

Sam's eyes start to water as Cas clinches around him. "Fuck, Castiel, you're too much."

"And it's still never enough." Cas kisses him again and lets Sam go, his body held open for Sam to grab and use as he lifts himself up on his hands, completely clear of the seat. His biceps and pecs bulge with the effort but he holds it, daring Sam to try and match him

"Think I can change your mind on that." Sam has a perfect handhold in Cas's hips, slender and still bearing the marks of lovemaking from earlier in the week. Looking into Cas's wide, deep blue eyes makes him feel like he's being taken out of himself – he's aware of the connection between their bodies, yes, but it transcends that, all warmth and light.

They're so caught up in fucking each other that they don't hear the frame of the loveseat groan its first warning. Sam grips Cas's hips, hard, leaning in to listen to every sound that Cas makes.

Sweat drips down Sam's nose and onto Cas's stomach, flexing with each movement of his body. He watches the droplet travel down to Cas's neatly trimmed dark pubic hair, then slides his gaze back up his treasure trail, continuing until his eyes are locked with Castiel's once more.

"I'm close, Sam." Cas tries to reach for his cock but Sam shakes his head.

"Just like this, baby, want you to come on my cock." Sam adjusts so that he knows he's hitting Cas right in the prostate – the change in Cas's expression, from pleasure to pure ecstasy, lets him know that he's doing exactly as he intended to.

Again, the loveseat creaks, its frame unseen starting to split. Again, neither notice.

"SamSamSam _Sam"_ is what Castiel chants, each one being fucked out of him and his cock throbs, at first just one solitary drop of come and then it's a flood, shooting all over his belly and chest and running back down in thin streams.

"Fuck, Castiel, I'm gonna fucking-" Sam comes and crashes their lips together as his orgasm makes his body catch fire, as dry as tinder on a hot day.

Right as Sam hits his apex, disaster.

It starts as a quiet roar of a rip and then Cas is going backwards with the top half of the loveseat, the pressure where Sam was pushing against him too much. Sam is pulled with him and down they go, Sam just getting an arm around Cas's head so that it doesn't hit the dark oak floor beneath them.

He lands on his wrist and pain shoots up all the way his arm, making him cry out, any vestiges of bliss completely gone.

Cas's eyes are wide with surprise and bewilderment, his glasses knocked askew on his face. "What happened?" He's still in shock, making no effort to push Sam off of him.

Sam props himself up on the arm that didn't break their fall.

"Um… we broke the loveseat." Sam hisses as he tries to lift himself up. "Are you okay?"

Cas does a quick check, making sure nothing is broken. "I think so _shit."_

A spring tears out of the cushion and lances over Cas's right side, leaving a four inch long cut. Sam rolls him away from it and gritting his teeth, picks them both up off the floor so that they're standing.

Cas holds his side and Sam watches the blood seep through his fingers. "Bathroom." Sam ignores the slickness of lube between his legs as they hobble to the downstairs bathroom where Sam keeps a suture kit. Sewing up dogs isn't really that different from doing the same to humans anyway. Besides, it's the not the first time he's had to do it to Cas. Hazards of carpentry being what they are, that is.

Cas notices the way Sam's favoring his hand. "Are you alright, Sam?"

Sam powers through having to use both hands to thread the needle. "I'll live – I'm a little more concerned about you."

Cas doesn't flinch too much as Sam applies antiseptic and wipes the blood away. "In spite of the interruption…" Cas waits for Sam to finish.

Sam manages a smile and kisses Cas's chest. "Oh trust me, I loved every second of it. You know how much I get off on coming home to you naked, babe."

Cas nudges Sam's head for a kiss and while Sam wants to treat Cas sooner rather than later, there's no way he won't deny his man more spit-swapping.

Later, after Sam's got some ice on his arm and Cas has a bandage on his side, they survey the damage.

"How did this even happen?" Sam bends down and peers over the broken frame of the loveseat, the two halves separated from each other almost completely.

"To be fair, it wasn't the first time it had endured so much… strain." Cas cocks his head and looks over where the two pieces lie. "And it was old furniture, as well."

"First piece we ever bought together." Sam smiles with memories in his eyes, memories of long nights curled up together in their first apartment on it, studying for vet school for so long he wore a groove on it, fucking on it after they first moved into their house together – Sam's genuinely sad to see the state they've put it in. "Can you fix it?"

Cas doesn't exactly look optimistic. "I don't know, Sam, but I wouldn't say its chances are high."

He comes over and kisses the corner of Sam's frown when he sees the disappointment on Sam's face. "Fifteen years together and it's time to say goodbye, isn't it?"

Sam feels a little better as Cas rubs the small of his back through his t-shirt. "Yes – but I'm sure we can find a suitable replacement."

One thing about it – the new one will have far fewer comestains dappling its surface.

The remains of Sam and Castiel's lovemaking have to wait a few days before they're cleared away. Between Cas's still healing side and Sam getting an x-ray for his arm, they play it safe. (Nothing is broken, but Sam does cancel his surgeries in the interim and lets his residents handle most of the work while he observes.)

"I think," Cas says over eggs Benedict that next Saturday, "we should get something in leather."

Sam finishes the column of newspaper he's reading and looks up at his husband, looking particularly beautiful this morning in his comfy gray button down and black chinos. "And leather is sticky in the heat and noisy when you sit on it – or is that _why_ you suggested leather?"

Cas smiles, knowing exactly what Sam meant when he said noisy. "It's comparatively easier to clean than plain fabric. Or worse, velvet."

"Who the hell even buys velvet-upholstered furniture?"

Cas shrugs and takes another sip of coffee. "Masochists?"

Sam laughs and touches Cas's bare foot under the table with his own. "Sure, masochists."

"Or people who want to make difficult for themselves by lovemaking on hard-to-clean furniture." Cas touches back and starts to rub his toes up Sam's calf.

"To be fair Cas, I'd take the hard to clean over not only _destroying_ furniture, but nearly breaking an arm as well." Sam gestures to Cas's side. "Or you nearly bleeding out because of a wrath-minded spring."

Cas leans across the small table and takes Sam's left hand, rubbing his wedding ring with his thumb. "I still say that the occasion was worth it – that and I honestly didn't know I was capable of still holding myself up like that."

"Because you're a champ, babe." Sam takes Cas's hand and kisses a knuckle or two. "But next time, I still vote that we stick with a safer position. Yoga or not, there are some things you just aren't capable of at forty."

"Thirty eight, Sam." Cas is two years younger than Sam, something he likes to remind him of when Sam starts to question their physical capabilities. To be fair, Sam doesn't _feel_ like he's forty. Well, that's kind of a lie – his back still aches a little from a couple of the angles they made that day. Still, he's in far better shape than a lot of other people.

"Thirty eight, forty, it's all in the same age range."

"And what age range would that be."

"Old enough to know better than to try fucking in positions that may result in irreversible consequences."

Cas eats his last forkful of egg and nods.

"Fair enough."

There aren't a ton of big chain furniture stores in their town, so they're far better off to try some of the local shops. It's hard to replace all of those memories that loveseat held, and his enthusiasm for replacing it isn't exactly high. Still, he goes along for Castiel's benefit, letting him do most of the talking as they search. Besides, those chinos make Cas's ass look amazing and he'd much rather look at that than learn about the merits of suede over leather.

Three stores in and two hours of checking out his husband later, Sam finally decides to engage fully in their search – but not for the right reasons.

"Say again, babe?" Cas had whispered something low in his ear, and chances are it was something that no one else needs to hear.

"I said I need you to pick me up and drop me on this like you're going to fuck me."

Sam's eyes grow wide, not at all expecting to hear the word "fuck" come out of his husband's mouth in broad daylight –and in public, no less. "This" refers to a black cloth-upholstered loveseat, complete with reclining backs.

"Uh, I don't think that's such a good idea." Out of reflex, Sam looks around to make sure the saleslady is out of earshot. "Why?"

"If we're going to enjoy the same sorts of activities on it that we did on the last one, we need to test it."

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. "I don't think the warranty covers 'damage because of vigorous and frequent lovemaking' Cas."

Cas frowns and moves so that he's in front of Sam. "I could do it myself, you know."

Sam can't help a smile. "You'd look kind of goofy just flopping yourself on it."

"Exactly – which is why I need you to help." Another inch and Cas's body is dangerously close to Sam's; he can smell the faint traces of Cas's shampoo, something with coconut in it. Cas touches Sam's forearm, the one that hasn't been injured, and ghosts his fingers along the inside of his wrists – Sam shivers and maybe regrets just a little bit that he'd worn a baseball tee instead of something with sleeves today. Showing that much skin to Castiel can be dangerous, and he knows exactly what happens to Sam when he touches his wrists like that.

Once again, Castiel has him at a disadvantage and he walked right into it. Man, he's _good._

Sam steals another quick glance – no one seems to be paying them any intention. He closes the space between them so that Cas has to tilt his head back to look up at him, fully aware of the powerful presence of Sam's muscles against him.

"I'm glad you've decided to play along." Cas reaches up and runs his fingers through Sam's hair, longer than normal so that the ends curl up just slightly. Sam loves the gentle way Cas touches him like this, and his body responds accordingly. He rubs himself against Cas, letting him feel his nascent arousal.

"Don't really feel like I had much of a choice." Sam dips his head and he kisses Cas just this side of tenderly, not surprised to feel Cas's tongue against his lips. There is no such thing as a chaste kiss with Castiel Winchester, and there never has been, or will be.

It just wouldn't be fair to not follow through a little further.

Sam puts his hands on Cas's slender hips and grips him gently, careful of Cas's still healing injury. Cas hums as his thumbs brush under the hem of his shirt – if Sam's wrists are the key to his undoing, for Cas it's his hips. Sam isn't going to play fair after what Cas did, after all.

Right as Sam has Cas practically purring, complete with warm little huffs of breath against his mouth, Sam not quite gently pushes Cas down on the loveseat, and the commotion of the seat suddenly snapping back actually has people looking at them.

Cas, the little shit, is smiling. "It's very… comfortable." He hooks his feet around the back of Sam's knees and with a flush of immense embarrassment, Sam topples down on top of his husband, wincing when out of reflex he uses his hurt arm to catch himself. Sam glances down at Cas, spotting the bulge in his pants and the lusty dazzle in his eyes, his face bare of glasses today.

"Yeah, comfortable." Sam sits down next to Cas and pretends he didn't just make like he was about to ravish his husband in the middle of a furniture store showroom. Of course, if Cas had his way, they'd probably end up doing so anyway.

Cas pats the soft upholstery, taking in the details. "Sam, I've seen this loveseat before."

"Care to fill me in on where?"

"Yes – I think it was in the porn we were watching last week. Remember that scene with-"

"Cas, stop talking." The saleslady has returned, and Sam's embarrassment doubles when he realizes she was in last week to have her Cocker Spaniel fixed.

"Is everything alright, Dr. Winchester?"

"Fine, just fine." Sam smiles and Cas snuggles up to him innocently – God strike him now for lying.

"Is the loveseat satisfactory?" Given that they've practically violated it, Sam really feels like they should take it out of principle.

Cas ends up making the decision for him. "I think we need something less plush. Come on, Sam." Cas pulls Sam up and doesn't get go of his hand until they're out of the store and walking back to Castiel's Tahoe.

"So, no on that one – we've seen just about everything in town, babe."

Cas unlocks the door and climbs into the driver's seat. "I know, Sam – which is why I'm going to do something completely different."

"And what would that be?

Cas has that "I've got a surprise for you look" on his face as he puts on his sunglasses.

"Simple – I'm going to build one."

Most of the time, Sam takes his lunch with him to work – more often than not, he only has a handful of minutes to eat. Today though, he has nothing slated until half past one – plenty of time to go home, eat some of Cas's delicious leftover white lasagna, and then be back at the office. Besides, he wants to surprise his husband and if there's time, maybe kiss him for a little bit.

Cas has been hard at work building their new loveseat. So far, Sam has kept clear of the shed out back, just because he wants to be surprised by Cas's creation. He knows that some of the materials came from a junkyard – Castiel is all about repurposing – so he's intrigued to see how they've been incorporated. He's also glad that he's the one building it – searching for the right wood for the frame had been a daylong process. Sam had spent most of that time in his head going through all of the different treatments for horse injuries while Cas did all the talking on what he was looking for.

Sam had remembered fifty six, in full detail by the time Cas had finally found what he was looking for.

Castiel isn't in the house when Sam walks in, neither upstairs nor downstairs. Sam hears the sound of the saw going, easily audible through the open back door. Sam's German Shepherd, Rio, comes trotting up to him as he's taking the dish holding the remaining third of the lasagna, wagging his tail excitedly at Sam's surprise middle of the day visit.

Rio licks his hand and Sam bends down to kiss the top of his head.

"Let's go see what Daddy's doing, yeah?"

Sam sits the lasagna down just in time for Rio to stand on his hind legs and try to hug Sam. He's a sweet dog, really.

Sam cuddles him for just a second before he moves away, Rio's toenails tapping on the kitchen tile behind him like a friendly ghost. Might soon be time to cut them again.

The sound of the miter saw gets louder as Sam approaches the shed – the door is three quarters of the way open, probably blown that way by the gentle breeze. He doesn't want to surprise Cas too much, especially since he's messing with power tools.

Sam puts on his "hello, my gorgeous husband" smile and goes to knock on the door.

His knuckles never make it to the door.

Cas is adjusting his safety glasses as he looks up and sees Sam standing in the doorway. He's absolutely covered in sawdust, flecking his worn Sinatra t-shirt and hair, which looks like he's been continually running his fingers through it. His shirt is stuck to his skin with sweat, showing off his trim body and hips – when he goes to wipe his face with the hem, Sam gets a gorgeous eyeful of Cas's flat, sweat-shiny belly and damp treasure trail, his jeans showing off the waistband of his Calvin Klein blue briefs.

In other words, _holy fucking shit Cas looks_ hot.

"Uh…" Sam so very rarely actually gets to see Castiel in action like this and it's, well… Sam _knows_ that this is how some of the porn they've watched together starts.

"Hello, Sam. Is everything alright?"

Sam doesn't move, because all of the blood in his body has very, very suddenly gone south. Rio's just behind Sam's legs and has to move as Sam kicks the door shut, bearing down on Cas like a freight train.

At least Cas does double check to see that the saw is off before Sam practically collides with him. Safety first, after all.

Sam can taste the sweat and smell of oak on Cas's body before he comes into contact with his lips, the safety glasses getting knocked off as Sam pulls him in for a deep, intense kiss. Cas's tongue is dry from where he's been holding his mouth open in concentration, so Sam makes every attempt to make it wet again. There's a grateful sound from Cas as Sam sucks his tongue into his mouth and moves his hands down his damp back, feeling the muscles that have been so carefully guiding and shaping wood for the last week and a half.

Cas is the first to pull away and gulp down a lungful of sticky, woody air. "Again, hello Sam." He's smiling now, having picked up on why Sam's attempting so hard to ravish him.

Sam licks a bead of sweat from Cas's neck before answering. "Hey, babe. I have a question for you."

"Go ahead."

"May I suck your cock? You know what – you don't have any choice." Sam kisses Cas's affirmative from his mouth and two seconds later is on his knees, undoing Castiel's cloth belt and trying to quell the greedy parts of his brain that are causing the coordinating parts to misfire and stall his attempts at getting Cas's pants down.

Sam licks the bottom half of Castiel's belly and swirls his tongue into his navel before he pulls the whole assembly down and eagerly shoves his face into Cas's groin, his husband's cock already hard as he kisses his hip and gives him a couple of hard, long strokes. Sam already knows that lasagna on top of come is going to be an interesting combo but to hell with it – it's not often that he gets to blow his husband in broad daylight.

Cas makes this beautiful little moan as Sam sucks his balls into his mouth and starts to rub his thumb over the head of his cock, his foreskin pulled back all the way. He nearly knocks some of his tools off of the workbench as he grabs it for support, his right hand turning white at the knuckles, his left in Sam's hair. Sam swirls his tongue over each one, making far too much noise in his enthusiasm but fuck, Cas's body tastes so _good._

"Touch yourself, Sam."

Those three words, raspy as they leave Cas's mouth, make Sam hard beyond belief – like he wasn't already. He undoes the drawstring on his scrubs and shoves his hand in, getting his cock out and fisting it as he lets go of Cas's sac and goes right down on his cock.

Normally, Cas is the one who gives blowjobs. He loves every second of it, and takes far more pride in getting Sam off with his mouth than he does in getting head for Sam. Still, Sam is going to use every second he can to remind Cas that yes indeed, he's pretty handy with a cock in between his lips too. Given that Cas keeps babbling his name and trying to fuck his face, Sam thinks he's doing a damned fine job.

Rio paws at the door, thinking Cas is in trouble. Sam hears it, Cas is far too lost in how Sam is running his tongue under his foreskin. Cas's precome is salty today and Sam strokes him slowly into his mouth to get more out, looking up at Cas's face – his head is thrown back and he's sweating even more now – good.

It's not long before Sam hears those magic words.

"Fuck, Sam, baby – I'm gonna _come._ "

Sam jerks himself off faster and faster, feeling Cas's cock swell to its fullest in his mouth. Normally he'd let Cas blow all over his face but there's no time to clean up – Cas is like a damn shotgun when he comes, and Sam isn't about to go back to work with jizz in his hair.

His blood roars in his ears as he comes right with Cas, swallowing burst after burst. He hears the loud spatter of his own come covering the floor and framing of the workbench between Castiel's feet, bobbing up and down on Cas to try and match the spasms of his body.

Sam mostly succeeds, but doesn't have much of a chance to bask in his glory; Cas's knees are awfully wobbly and it just wouldn't be right to let him fall down. He stands and catches Cas, holding him up and kissing the taste of his come back to him – what of it Sam didn't outright have to swallow.

That first lick of Cas's tongue into his mouth is nearly enough to get him going again, and ten sticky, slightly bitter minutes later, Sam finally regains enough of his brain to remember how to talk.

"So… lunch?"

The only thing that makes the lasagna better is the triumphant look in Cas's eyes, knowing full well _exactly_ what state Sam's going to find him in when he gets home.

He's going to need to be outside in the shed for a long, long while.

Sam doesn't normally stay attached to his phone at work – it goes in his desk drawer when he gets there, comes out at lunch, and then before he goes home. Too much to worry about _inside_ the clinic, much less outside.

This is the fifteenth time he's looked at it in the last hour and he's starting to get on his own nerves.

He knew Castiel was close to finished with the loveseat last night – he'd barely seen him after he'd gotten home from work. They ate dinner together, Cas had kissed him goodnight, and then gone back out to his shed. Sam hadn't even felt him when he's laid down next to him in bed later, and he wasn't there when Sam had awakened that morning.

Out of respect for Castiel's creativity, Sam has kept clear of his workspace as much as possible. Not even when he's walked Rio has the dog made any attempt to go near it.

But really, just a hint of what it looks like would be awesome.

As he leaves, Sam feels that same anticipation he did a few weeks ago when Cas had sent him that ass pic. It makes his heart thump fast in his chest and his fingers shake, excited to see Cas's creation. He knows his husband could easily have a career as a carpenter – but he keeps his talent for Sam and himself, and so far everything he's made is an absolute work of art. Like he's been divinely touched and ordained to do so.

So lost in his anticipation to see what Cas has done is Sam that he doesn't even remember driving home – his surprise is legitimate when he realizes he's sitting in their driveway.

The door is unlocked and Rio's at the foot of the stairs, wagging his tail and looking up at Sam with those soulful brown eyes without getting to his feet. Sam leans down and scratches him behind the ears, asking "what'd you do with Cas, old man?"

Rio has no answer aside from rolling over on his back for Sam to scratch his belly.

"Sorry my friend, but I need to talk to your father." Sam pats him once, Rio harumphs and goes upstairs, and Sam turns to go into the living room.

Cas sits on the loveseat like the proud owner of a thoroughbred racehorse, right in the middle, slightly relaxed but immensely aware of what he's done. He's in his jeans and t-shirt – but his feet are bare, his toes wiggling against the rug he's put at the foot of it.

"I'd admire your work but there seems to be a gorgeous man in the way."

Castiel's smiles goes ear to ear.

"Come and sit, please." Cas scoots over and pats the seat next to him.

On the way, Sam takes in as much detail as he possibly can. It's done in leather – dark brown – and the arms are formidable but comfortable looking. It's slightly larger than the last one too, not quite couch size but still big enough accommodate both of them with comfort without sacrificing closeness. The cushions are plush but not overstuffed – Cas really went the extra mile with this thing.

Sam sinks down onto it and adjusts himself and holy shit, this is _nice._

"One question, babe."

"What's that?"

"How did you get it in the house by yourself?"

"Oh, I called Dean and Benny. It was fun watching them try to outmuscle each other. They only scratched the floor a little, too." Cas gestures to the hallway where Dean dropped it because he got distracted by Benny's biceps.

"Remind me to go see him tomorrow so I can leave mud in his passenger seat." Sam smiles and cozies up to Cas, thinking of his brother's meticulous care for the Impala. They're both in their forties and Dean _still_ grouses about Sam damaging his car.

"And when he comes here to complain about it, I'm sure you'll be elsewhere, right?" Cas is doing his best to shift over and sit in Sam's lap, even though Sam got peed on twice today and smells like wet dog. It doesn't bother Cas though – he's been used to smelling Sam like this ever since Sam was an intern at the shelter where Cas adopted a rescue cat. Hell, it was that raggedy old tom that brought Sam and Cas together in the first place.

"Well… I can _try_ to be here."

Cas is in his lap now, straddling his thighs and taking Sam's hair out of its ponytail. "As long as you try."

Sam closes his eyes and hums into the kiss that Cas gives him, soft and tasting like sweet fruit. Sam knows that there were honeycrisp apples in the kitchen the other day, and their sweetness lingers on Castiel's lips. It's not like the last time, no frantic grasping or throwing. In fact, Cas seems intent on taking it very, very slowly.

Right as Sam's about to open his mouth and let Cas in, Cas pulls away.

"Why don't we see how good of a job I've done in building this?"

Sam puts his hand up the back of Cas's shirt and scratches his spine. "What'd you have in mind?"

Cas arches into Sam's touch, letting it wash over him for just a moment before he leans back in and takes Sam's face in his hands.

"Why don't you let me worry about that?"

Before Sam can kiss him again, Cas is slinking to the floor between Sam's legs, his fingers going right for his shoes. They're hospital grade slip-ons, and Cas has them off in a second along with Sam's socks – made of nylon so that they don't leave bits stuck to his feet. Sam watches as Cas runs his palms and fingers over the soles of his feet and up to his ankles, lavishing them with careful, warm touch.

Yeah, this is _definitely_ Castiel's game today.

Sam helps by taking off his top and throwing it behind him, landing with a clunk where there are still a couple of things in his pockets. He ignores it and instead concentrates on the way Cas massages his thighs through his pants.

"No glasses today?" Sam holds his palm to the side of Cas's face as he comes up to plant a kiss in the middle of his chest.

"No." Cas moves back down and noses at Sam's treasure trail. "They would simply get in the way."

Sam is about to ask what but Cas has the drawsting of his pants in between his teeth and giving him an absolutely _wicked_ look. Cas is really smooth about it too, undoing the knot and then immediately hooking his fingers in Sam's waistband. Down go his pants and underwear, and Cas tosses them like they've done him some sort of grave offense.

"You were going to ask something?" Cas rubs Sam's thighs and sits back, ignoring Sam's now rock-hard cock. Fuck, has he _always_ been this easy?

"No, just…" Sam's train of thought derails as soon as he feels Castiel's breath against the underside of his cock.

"Of course." Cas kisses his left thigh and Sam shivers; those are just as responsive as his wrists are, and Cas fucking knows it.

Because Cas likes to imitate that will remotely turn Sam on and has an insane memory for this stuff, he graps Sam's cock and smacks it against his tongue, pink and wet and perfectly centered by his slight grin. Fuck, there hasn't been a time when Sam's cock has been in or around has mouth and Cas _hasn't_ been happy. Maybe it's an oral fixation, maybe he's super fucking into the taste of Sam's bodily fluids. Either way, Sam's never once complained.

"You're a fucking tease, angel." Sam notices that the loveseat is already molding to his body, making him as comfortable as anything. Cas just keeps his tongue out and starts to lick Sam like a popsicle, moving so that each time his mouth is on Sam's glans, his foreskin is drawn forward. It gets messy after a couple of minutes, between the steady drops of precome that keep leaking from the slit and Cas's spit-covered mouth and cheeks. At one time, Sam didn't think Cas would be the sort of person to give wet, noisy head.

He was really, _really_ wrong.

Cas rises from the floor and stands right in front of Sam, licking his lips at the naked-save-for-his-watch form of his husband. Sam stretches and flexes for him, making Cas pause in the middle of taking his shirt off.

"And you call _me_ a tease – Sam, that title belongs solely to you." Cas finishes in a hurry, and Sam's pleased to find that he's commando under those jeans, his own cock drippy with arousal.

"Don't know what you're talking about – now c'mere." Sam grabs Cas and pulls him into his lap, careful to avoid taking a knee to the dick.

Cas is practically vibrating out of his skin at having been suddenly manhandled like that. "I wasn't finished getting you wet."

"Plenty of time to do that later – and we don't even have to move from here, either." Sam pulls Cas up so that he's on his knees, his fingers cupping those four-miles-a-day sculpted ass cheeks. "And you've been busy – again."

Cas inhales short and sharp as Sam pushes two fingers into him, already wet with lube. "I wanted to be- _fuck, Sam, deeper_ – for you."

Sam reaches for the lube on the side table to his right and one-handed, pours it down his cock. "Just more reasons to love you, Cas."

There's this moment of suspension as Sam eases Castiel down onto his cock, his eyes never leaving his face. They both shudder, Sam from the tightness of Cas's body and Sam from just how _warm_ he is; Sam takes Castiel's hands in his and grips them tightly, supporting him on either side.

Not until Sam is buried to the hilt do they move or speak.

"It… God, Cas it feels like you designed this so that this position is as comfortable as possible."

Cas smiles, and knows he's been caught. "I had a feeling you would pick up on that."

"And my prize for guessing correctly?"

Cas just squeezes Sam's fingers a little tighter and kisses him on the mouth. "Hold on tight and you'll see."

He's sworn up and down many, many times to Sam that the flexibility in his hips is purely a result of his lifelong devotion to yoga; Sam just can't quite believe that, because the whole array of seductive looks and hip swiveling, yeah that's come from something else other than a healthy exercise regimen. Still, Sam's never been able to find proof that his husband ever did any sort of stripper work, but it's fun as hell to think about.

Cas squeezes him with his ass and brings Sam back to the room around him. "The fact that you're thinking too hard bothers me. Am I not doing well enough?" Shit, he has that challenge look in his eyes.

"Uh, exact opposite – you're doing _great."_ Sam puts his hands on Cas's hips and feels them as they undulate, following every movement with his eyes. "Fuck, Cas, baby, that's it oh _fuck"-_

Cas is grinding on him really, really slowly, just barely moving up and down while he keeps himself as tight as possible. He swoops in for a kiss, wet and halfway uncoordinated. Sam sucks Cas's tongue into his mouth and holds Cas as close to his body as he can, his husband never ceasing to move. He sort of feels like that were it not for Cas's weight in his lap, he'd be floating away right now.

When Cas stops moving, Sam comes back to himself – just.

"Something wrong?" Sam can feel the sweat and precome from Cas's cock making them sticky.

"No – there's something I need to make sure that this can handle, or I've just wasted three weeks."

Sam knows _precisely_ what Cas is talking about.

"Hold on, babe."

Sam's very proud of the fact that he can still pull of the maneuver he's about to attempt; careful to not lift Cas completely off of his cock he stands, getting up with nothing but sheer quad and glute power. He passes off the grunt of effort he lets out as manly and once they're up, just stands there for a moment with Cas wrapped around him. Careful to not drop him, Sam kisses him deeply as he turns. Cas's legs tighten around Sam's waist and smiles as he's lowered to the seat.

"Ready?" The word tickles his lips against Castiel's.

"Ready."

Sam starts off slow, holding Cas's hands above his head and noticing that the seat is much higher than the other one; Sam's back isn't protesting against him for holding this position for so long – kudos to his husband for thinking of literally _everything._

He doesn't quite have the fluid movement of hips that Cas does but what he lacks in flexibility he makes up for in speed control. Every time Cas manages to get the word "faster" or "harder" out, Sam adjusts incrementally, just enough so that Cas is kept right on the edge.

Sam has Cas _exactly_ where he wants him – until Cas manages to shift Sam's hands and starts to nibble along the inside of Sam's right wrist.

Any rhythm Sam had is now gone, ruined by the slight graze of Cas's teeth against his skin.

"Fucking _bastard,_ " Sam moans. "You know what that does to me."

Because he's Cas, he wraps his legs around Sam's back and waist, pulling Sam down. "I do. Is that a problem?"

Sam starts to fuck Cas again and kisses those now swollen, dark pink lips. "No, but you just cut this down to about thirty more seconds."

Cas just looks gleeful and takes Sam's hand and places it on his cock.

"Finish it, Sam – I want to be _soaked."_

Thirty seconds was far too generous of an estimate; that whole thing with Cas molesting his wrist worked way too well, and Sam barely pulls out before he's coming, long, thick ropes nailing Cas in the face and chest; two solid shots explode against the cushion behind Cas's head. Of course, it's _nothing_ compared to Cas's, and when it's over, Sam sees come on the window behind their head – way up at the top, too.

Cas is doing his best to help Sam onto the seat next to him, making him sit up so that he can lay across his lap. Sam looks down at him and smiles, wanting to laugh with euphoria but God, Cas drained everything he had out of him.

Sam leans down to kiss him and runs his fingers through Cas's damp, messy hair. "Good news, babe – it didn't break this time."

All that means is that they have to try that much harder next time.


End file.
